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THE VILLAGE 
POSTMISTRESS 



Price, 15 Cents 




COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 



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Salter i|. ^afeer Sc Companp 

No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 



The Village Postmistress 



A Rural Comedy in Three Acts 



By 
BERTHA CURRIER PORTER 

Juthor of ''The Voice of Authority;' ''Gadsbfs Girls," 
^^Tbe Mishaps of Minerva ^^ ^''Lucia's Lover^^ etc. 



BOSTON 
WALTER H. BAKER ^ CO, 

1912 



The Village Postmistress 



CHARACTERS 



ACHSAH KiTTREDGE, the postinhtress. 

Hannah Webster, who has always had her own way. 

Alice PlumiMER, who lives with Mrs. Webster. 

Hazel Roberts, the 7iew school-teacher from the city. 

Martha Stetson, a neighbor. 

Rebecca Carter, a tieighbor. 

David Jameson, a man of peace. 

John Webster, in love with Alice. 

Bart Hackett, blind, but newsy. 

J ABE Kendall, the village politician. 

Frank Sanders, the stage-driver. 

Hiram Preston, a farmer. 

Stranger, a detective. 

Time. — The present. 

Place. — A small country village in New England. 

Costumes.— Of the present day. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I. — Mrs. Webster's Hving-room. A cloudy afternoon in 
November. 

Act II. — The village store and post-office — early evening of the 
same day. 

Act III. — Same as Act II — the next afternoon. 



THP96-C06918 




Copyright, 191 2, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 



/ 



Q)C1.D 31356 



The Village Postmistress 



ACT I 

SCENE. — Hannah Webster's living-room. Door at rear^ 
leading to kitchen ; door at K., leading outdoors. Windows 
at each side, filled with plants in blossom. Haircloth lounge 
in front of wifidow at i<. Fireplace at back. In center 
of stage, extensiofi table^ with red checked cloth on it. 
Braided rugs on a painted floor. Shelf with old fashioned 
clock, glass vases, some goblets and saucers holding plant- 
slips ; almanac hanging beneath. The table is littered with 
papers, old programmes and books. Old-fashioned pictures 
on walls, and an enlarged crayon portrait of John Webster. 
Martha Stetson and Rebecca Carter sit by the table. 

E?iter Han., ivith scrap-book. 

Han. Here's my scrap-book. Now we shan't repeat 
anything. Every programme we've ever had is in this book — 
every harvest festival, every Easter concert, every Christmas 
celebration. 

Mar. You do beat all for system, Hannah. Tlie way you 
keep everything is a caution. Well, it's lucky somebody keeps 
things. If ever you throw anything away or lose anything, 
you're sure to want it. Now when I lost that recipe for dried 
apple pie, I knew you'd have the copy I gave you, so I didn't 
worry a mite, and sure enough, you did. 

Han. Careless people make lots of trouble in this world. 

Reb. Here's a pretty piece in this book — all about fallin' 
leaves an' autumn breeze — ^just the thing for Thanksgivin'. 
Hetty Cartwright would speak it real nice. 

Han. No doubt she would. Hetty Cartvvright's probably 
got her piece all picked out long 'fore now. For my part, I 
think Hetty Cartvvright's spoke about all the pieces /want to 
hear. I'm in favor of somethin' new. 



4 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

Reb. Why, Hannah, we couldn't slight Hetty ! Think 
how she'd feel. She's always spoke a piece at the Thanks- 
givin' concert. 

Mar. Likely she'll wear that old blue dress. I wish she'd 
get soinethiii' new. Say, ain't that light purple suit the new 
teacher wears just grand ? 

Han. Teacher does have the prettiest clothes. You ought 
to see a white dress she has hangin' up in her press- closet. 
She ain't worn it yet. Perhaps she'll wear it to the concert. 

Mar. I guess the scholars like her real well. My sister's 
boy says she's all right. An' she makes Harold Bean behave, 
which is more'n any other teacher ever did. 

Han. Is that great Bean boy still goia' to school ? My, I 
should think 'twas time his folks put him to work. 

Reb. Folks nowadays don't seem to have to work the v/ay 
they used to. My father was earnin' man's wages by the time 
he was Harold's age. 

Mar. Well, this ain't plannin' the Thanksgivin' concert. 

Han. No, it ain't, an' we haven't any too much time, 
either. 

Reb. Let's take that scrap-book, Hannah. Perhaps there's 
somethin' appropriate in that. (^Iliey hunt in silence a vio- 
vient.) Why, here's that piece your John spoke at Easter, 
when he was five years old. I can see him now. Wasn't he 
a cunnin' youngster? 

Mar. Pity he's away, Hannah. We shall miss his singin*. 
We always depend on John. An' Alice plays so pretty for 
him. 

Han. Teacher plays the nicest I ever heard. I got her to 
try over some of John's pieces. I been telling her about his 
singin'. And when he comes home, I'm goin' to have 'em 
practise together. 

(Mar. at//// Reb. exchange glances.') 

Mar. Where's Alice today, Hannah ? 

Han. She's doin' up some sewin' I got behind on. 

Reb. I s'pose she'll play at the concert ? 

Han. Well, teacher says she'll play, an' we don't want too 
much instrumental music. 

Mar. Why, Hannah Webster, do you mean you ain't 
goin' to ask Alice ? Folks always look forward to her playin', 
an' she's so good about encores. 

Han. Altogether too forward as she grows older. It won't 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 5 

hurt her a mite to check her some. A girl in her position 
shouldn't be so bold. 

Mar. Well, I never should call Alice bold. Folks will 
think it's queer enough if she don't play. I guess David'U 
have soraethin' to say. 

Han. David don't run this town yet, even if some folks 
thinks he does. But we can settle that part of it later. I 
s'pose we'll have ice-cream an' cake for sale, as usual ? I'll 
make a couple o' loaves o' my pound cake. 

Reb. I wish we didn't have to ask Mis' Flanders for cake 
— she can't cook no more'n a cat. But then she'll make a 
loaf anyway, even if she ain't asked. Who's that goin' by 
the window, Hannah ? 

{They all hurry to the window, and peer out.) 

Han. Land o' love, it's Bart Hackett ! Pokin' along, as 
usual. I s'pose he's comin' here. I'd like once in a while to 
do something that Bart Hackett didn't get wind of. For all 
he's blind, he picks up more news than a man with eyes all 
round his head, like a fly ! Yes — there he comes — in the shed 
door. 

Mar. He gives me the shivers sometimes, settin' around 
with them eyes o' hisn. They don't look blind. I know he 
can't see what I'm doin', but he'll break right out with some 
remark, just as if he could. 

Reb. They say that blind folks have a sense that we don't 
— to make up for their affliction, I s'pose. 

Enter Bart Hackett, from rear door. 

Bart. Howdy, Hannah ! Marthy an' Rebecca's here, 
ain't they? I heard so. Howdy, girls! Thanksgivin' con- 
cert comin', I guess. {He goes across the room, and feels 
among the books and papers on the table, until he finds the 
scrap-book that Reb. has put there.) Yes, here it is. Knew 
I'd find it. Read in my almanac this mornin' ''About this 
time watch out for Hannah Webster's scrap-bock." Got it 
all planned, I s'pose? "First number on the programme 
will be a song by John Webster, accompanied by Alice Plum- 

mer — Recitation, < Autumn ' by Hetty Cartwright " Gosh, 

I know it all by heart.. 

Han. {tartly). If you can give us any better ideas, we'll 
be glad to have 'em, I'm sure. 



6 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

Bart. Don't let me interfere. I've stood 'em so long. 
Guess I can weather a few more. S'pose you'll work the new 
schoolma'am in, won't ye? I aiu't seen her yet. 

Mar. Oh, Bart, 1 wanted to asik you — I knew you'd know 
— when's Jabe Kendall goin' to have his auction ? I heard he 
was goin' to sell off all that old truck in his attic. 

Bart. So he was, but he's changed his mind. He's heard 
that Paul Potter, you know, Paul on the old pound road — wife 
was a Cheney — well, Paul's aimin' to take some boarders next 
year, so Jabe's goin' to wait till July an' have his auction when 
the boarders are here. He's sent for some blue plates an' such 
from the ten cent store down Boston way, an' he's goin' to use 
'em till they get kind o' crackled an' greasy, an' then put 'em 
in amongst his stuff, an' he calculates to get enough out o' 
the boarders, one way an' another, to buy an automobile. 

\_Exii Han. 

Reb. Paul Potter's folks goin' to take boarders? Why, 
where on earth are they goin' to put 'em in that little old 
house ? 

Mar. An* way up out o' creation— on that lonesome pound 
road, too. 

Reb. Paul Potter's wife can't keep house fit for a pig. / 
don't think she's all there anyway. Sometimes she looks as 
if she hadn't a wit in the world. 

Efiter Han. with a fray of cake and cider. 

Han. Talkin's dry work. Don't you want some o' my 
cider? Here, Bart, I know you won't refuse. Have some 
cake, Martha. Have some, Rebecca. 

Bart. My father used to say, *' No thank you has lost many 
a good meal." Never did in my case. I'll have some cake, 
too, Hannah. 

Mar. This is lovely cake, Hannah. Did you make it ? 

Han. No, Alice made this. 

Reb. She's a real good cook, ain't she? 

Mar. She's had a good teacher. 

Bart. Powerful good cake, Hannah, I'll take another 
piece. 

Han. {pas si fig him the cake'). Well, since she's been with 
me, I've tried to teach her what I could. 

Mar. Now, who else can we have to speak at the concert? 

Reb. Land o' mercy, it's after four o'clock. I must be 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 7 

scootin*, I got biscuits to bake for supper. Don't it shut 
down dark awful early now ? 

Han. We shall hav^e to have another meetin' of this com- 
mittee. We haven't accomplished a thing. 

Mar. Why can't we leave the rest of it to you, Hannah ? 

Bart. That'll just suit Hannah — she does love to manage 
things, don't ye, Hannah? Where's Alice? I want to tell 
her how good this cake is. Since you're so pressin', I wi// take 
another piece. 

Han. I'll call her. l£xif. 

Mar. (asid^, to Reb.). I'll bet you she tries to make a 
match between John an* the new schoolma'am. She won't 
admit there's a girl in this town good enough for him. 

Bart. Hannah begun on the schoolma'am yet? I'll bet 
she gives her an earache about John. I only hope she don't 
do too much gabbin' before Alice. 

Mar. {starting'). Bart Hackett, you've got ears like a fox. 

Bart. Kind o' too bad John's got such a managin' ma. 
Too bad for her, I mean. John Webster's goin' to have his 
own way in this world, or I miss my guess. There's a good 
deal of his ma in him, an' when those tv/o disagree things are 
goin' to be lively. 

Reb. Hush, here she comes. 

Enter Han., followed by Alice Plummer, who picks up the 
glasses and plates. 

Alice. How do you do, Martha ? How do you do, Re- 
becca ? Got the programme all made out for the concert ? 
Hullo, Bart, I heard you liked my cake. 

Bart. Powerful tasty cake, Alice. If I hadn't made up 
my mind to go into the Old Men's Home, I'd ask ye to marry 
me, just on account o' that cake. 

Alice {laughing). You're real good, Bart. I'll take the 
will for the deed. And I'll send you a loaf of cake sometimes 
when you get into the Home. 

Mar. It was lovely cake, Alice. Come, Rebecca, we must 
be goin'. {At the door.) Mercy, how low the clouds are! 
Why, it's snowin' hard. Goin' our way, Bart ? 

Bart. No; I rather guess, seeing Hannah wants me so 
bad, I'll stay an' take supper with her. Maybe that cake ain't 
all gone yet. 

Han. I ain't got much for supper, Bart. 



8 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

Bart. All the same to me. I'll take my chances with the 
schoolma'am. I guess what's good enough for her will be good 
enough for me. {Sctlks back in his chair,) Good-night, girls. 

Mar. Good-night, Hannah. Good-night, Alice — Bart. 

Reb. Good-night, all. 

\_Excunf'^h\\\. and Reb., at side door, 

Han. {crossly). Go put another plaie on for Bart, Alice. 

{^Exit Alice. Bart rocks co?nforiably while Han. picks up 
the scattered papers and books, and tidies the room.) 

Bart. I guess I'll step down to the store while Alice is 
gittin' supper, Hannah. I'll fill the wood-box an' tend to the 
chores, too, to kind o' pay for my keep. 

Han. All right. {Exit ^kkt, at rear. Children'' s voices 
are heard at the side door, calling, ** Good-7iight, teacher — 
good-night — good-night.^* Enter, at side door, Hazel Rob- 
erts. She stands in the door, waving her hand and calling 
^^ Good-night.'") It looks as if you had company home, Miss 
Roberts. 

Hazel. Quite an escort, yes. And I'm laden with all sorts 
of trophies. Butternuts — we'll crack some if we can after 
supper — apples, and see the lovely pop-corn that William 
brought me ! It's going to be a wild night. It snows now, 
and the wind is rising, and I think we're in for a blizzard. 
It's just the night to stay in where it's warm and bright, and 
talk and eat goodies. 

Han. It's a pretty good sign when children like a person, 
Miss Roberts. When my John was a boy, he just worshiped 
his teacher. I'll be glad when he gets home. He'll entertain 
you an' make things real pleasant. I s'pose you noticed this 
picture of him — I had it enlarged from a photograph by a man 
that came to town. It's a real good likeness. 

Hazel. I supposed that must be your son. He looks like 
you, Mrs. Webster. You must be proud of him. 

Han, You've heard of a hen with one chicken — I guess I 
know how she feels. Just let me show you his baby pictures 
here in the album. There's one that's awful cute. He was as 
fat as butter, and as good a baby as you'd want to see. I'm 
just ambitious for that boy. Miss Roberts. I've always lived 
right here in the country myself, an' things haven't always 
been to my likin', but I want John to have the advantages I 
missed. He's queer, though. I set out for him to be a 
teacher ; put him through high school an' the academy, but he 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 9 

decided he'd rather be outdoors. Went an' took a course in 
forestry. He's up north here now, lumberin' — says he'll try 
teachin' his neighbors how to cut trees for a while, then he'll 
see. {Shows her the pic lure. ^ There, there he is when he 
was a baby. 

Hazel. Isn't that a dear picture? 

Han. An' here he is in his first short dress. I've got one 
o' those shoes now — blue kid, with white buttons. The other 
he kicked off an' lost. 

Enter Alice. 

Alice. Hadn't I better go down for the mail now? Jabe 
Kendall's gone up by with his. 

Han. No, I want to do some tradin'. I'll go. You enter- 
tain Miss Roberts. 

Hazel. Truly, Mrs. Webster, I don't need entertaining. 
Now if I'm going to board here, I must insist on being treated 
as one of the family, or I shall feel that I am such a bother. 

Han. It must seem kind of stupid to you now, but just 
wait till John gets home. He'll take you all around. There's 
some awful pretty drives here. An' it's lovely in the winter 
when snow's all white an' clean. Not much like your city 
streets — all slush an' dirt. Alice, get the lard pail for me, will 
you? We're all out. \_Exeuiit Han. and Alice, at rear. 

Hazel {closing the album ivith a hang). I'm so sick of 
John I shall scream if she mentions him again. {Goes up to 
the picture and shakes her fist at it.) Some day I'm going to 
turn you to the wall, you smirking piece of peifection — you ! 
"John this — John that — John for breakfast, dinner and sup- 
per." It's very evident that Mrs. Hannah Mother Webster 
has plans for John, and I'm included. I won't go riding with 
you, John. I won't be thrown at your head, John. Some- 
body might object — still, I wonder how it would do to give 

mother a lesson. I might pretend to be impressed {Enter 

Alice, 7vho moves about in silence.) It's snowing faster, isn't 
it ? Mrs. Webster ought to take an umbrella. 

Alice. Country people get used to the weather. Miss 
Roberts. 

Hazel {laugliino), \ suppose I shall have to learn all sorts 
of things. Mrs. Webster seems determined to use every method 
to improve my education. Have you always lived in the 
country, MissPlummer? 

Alice. Ever since I can remember. 



10 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

Hazel. Mrs. Webster is your aunt, isn't she? 

Alice. No, she isn't any relation. You see my mother 
came here when I was a tiny girl. She hired a house and 
lived by herself. And because she would not satisfy the curi- 
osity of her neighbors, and tell every one all about herself, 
they began to talk. I was too young to realize then, but I 
know now what mother must have suffered. She was so good 
to me that I never missed the grandmother and other relatives 
that the children talked about. One night our house caught 
fire. It was some distance from the village — there was no fire 
department, of course, — and by the time the light was seen 
and help came, my mother and I were safely out. We could 
only v/atch it burn. Suddenly my mother cried out and ran 
back into the blazing house before any one could stop her — 
then the roof fell in 



Hazel. Oh — oh 



Alice. I don't like to think about it. David tried to go 
after her, but it was just a fiery furnace. The neighbors were 
good to me when I was small. 1 lived with David's mother 
till she died, and we were so happy. Then David brought me 
to Mrs. Webster ; because he said she needed a dauglUer. But, 
you see, 1 don't know who my people arc. Once it made no 
difference — now I'm learning what my mother endured. Oh, 
Miss Roberts, I don't know why I'm telling you this. I don't 
usually talk about my affairs to strangers. 

Hazel. 1 hope it is because 1 am not going to be a stranger 
long. You and the wonderful Jc/nn nuist be iike liroiher and 
sister. When he comes home ue will have some good times 
together. I can see him now — a spoiled mother's boy — I must 
take him in hand. If his mother is going to educate me, I'll 
give the son a few lessons, just to even up things. {Laughs.) 
1 must take care I don't fall in love with him. Does he look 
like this outrage ? (Points to the picture.') 

k\A<z^ ijiuietly). John is a good-looking fellow. Everyone 
likes John. 

Hazel. All the more reason why I should devote a little of 
my valuable time to him. Yes, my mind is made up. I shall 
certainly cultivate this paragon — he's too good to be true. 
Can't you give me some points, Alice? What is the quickest 
road to his affections? Does he like a shy, clinging creature, 
or a woman v/ith brains and opinions? 

{^Before Alice cati reply, Bart enters froju the rear door.) 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 11 

Alice. Why, Bart, are you back so soon ? Miss Roberts, 
let me make you acquainted with Mr. Hackett. 

Bart {extending his hand). Glad to see ye, Miss Roberts. 
I've heard a heap about ye — it's quite an event when a stranger 
comes to this town. 

Hazel (shaking hands). Glad to meet you, Mr. Hackett. 

Bart. ''Bart," if it's all the same to you. "Mister" 
don't set easy on my name. "Well, what's the news ? What 
ye talkin' about up here? You're the general subject o* con- 
versation in every other house in town, Miss Roberts. You'd 
be some surprised if you could collect all your histories — 
you wouldn't know yourself, I'm sure. Come from Boston, 
don't ye? 

Hazel. From near Boston, yes. 

Bart. 1 said 'twas Boston, but Jabe Kendall, he was bound 
to have it New York. Boston ain't on his map sence he took 
that trip out west five year ago. An' now he's got into politics, 
he's runnin' the whole country. Fust thing he aims to do is to 
get a veteran appointed postmaster here. An' veteran's name 
is Jabe Kendall. 

Alice. Do you suppose he will, Bart ? I heard he was 
after Achsah's place. 

Bart. Well, he's tryin'. That's no sight he's gettin' it, 
though. Other folks besides Jabe has got a finger in that pie. 
Achsah's heard of it, an' she's worryin' some. Ye see there's 
been a lot o' changes in the post-offices lately, an' Jabe happens 
to be of the prevaiiin' party just now. Spends all his pension 
money buyin' postage stamps to write to Washington — good 
thing for Uncle Sam. 

Alice. Well, if the President takes that away from Achsah, 
after she's had it all these years 

Bart. President ain't got nothin' to say about it, Alice. 
Jabe's runnin' things now. 

Hazel. Isn't Miss Achsah one of the finest women you ever 
knew? Somehow you feel her friendship just as soon as she 
shakes hands with you. 

Bart. I guess you're right there. Ain't nothin' Achsah 
wouldn't do for anybody. An' nobody in this town but would 
do anythin' for her, exceptin' Jabe Kendall, an' he's too cussed 
mean to count. What's the matter with you, Alice? Sound 
kind o' siiiffly, don't ye ? 

Alice. Nothing's the matter, Bart, 

Bart {hitting the album, which lies on a chair). Been 



tit THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

lookin' at the famii)/ poiiraiis, Miss Roberts? Been admirin' 
Joiin in all his various stages? 

Hazel. 1 have seen a few pictures of him, Mr. Hackett. 

Bart. Well, now, you don't want to let Hannah prejudice 
you agin' him. John's a mighty fine chap, hey, Alice ? 1 guess 
Ahce here knows what John is as well as aLy one. 

Alice (^quickly). Was the mail sorted when you left, Bart? 

Bart. Yes, 1 waited. Achsah said there wa'n't nothin' for 
me, but she mentioned there was a letter for you from John. 

Alice. Did she give it to you? 

Bart. No, I guess Hannah took it. 

Alice. She took it? Oh, what shall I do? 

Bart. Why, wiiat if she did ? What's the matter? 

Alice. She doesn't know John writes to me. She won't 
like it. She has 

Bart. Now don't go gittin' nervous, Alice. And don't 
you be afraid o' Hannah, nuther. I should want her to know 
John was writin' if I was you. Then you won't be doin' nothin* 
underhanded, an' she can't blame you. 

Alice. Bart, you know how angry she will be. 

Bart. Let her git mad — an' let her git over it. You ain't 
done nothin' in all your life to be ashamed of. She's got to 
know John loves you some time. She knows it now, if she'd 
only admit it. She sets a heap by Jolin, I know, but when she 
realizes he wants you more'n anythin' on earth, she'll give in 
an' things will be all right. She's never denied that boy any- 
thin' he wanted, an' she ain't goin' to begin now. 

Alice. But this is different. Bart, you know — every one 
knows — I don't know who I am really ; oh, she has said so 
often enough lately, ever since she noticed that John was be- 
ginning to care for me. She would never have consented to 
let him go away from home if it hadn't been for that. Oh, if 
I only knew who I am ! 

Bart. Ask Jabe Kendall — he knows everythin'— he'll 
tell ye. 

Alice. It is no joking matter to be all alone in the world, 
Bart. 

Bart. Relations ain't always such a blessin' as some folks 
seem to think. 'Cordin' to some I've seen, I'm glad I ain't 
got none. Don't worry, Alice. It'll come out all right. Brace 
up, now — here she comes. 

Enter Han., ivith parcels atid mail. 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 13 

Han. {fiot ioo ivell pleased^. Oh, Bart, you came back, 
didn't you? Miss Roberts, here's some mail for you. 

Hazel. Thank you. Will you excuse me while I read my 
letters ? 

Bart. Well, Hannah, what's the news down street? 

Alice. Isn't there anything for me? 

Han. No. 

Bart. That's funny. Where's your letter? I'd have 
brought it if I hadn't thought Achsah'd give it to Hannah. 

Han. {hurriedly). I don't beHeve you'd better stay for sup- 
per, Bart. You'd better be steppin' along. It's fillin' in pretty 
fast, and none of us can go home with you. 

Bart. Oh, I ain't in any hurry. Storms don't bother me 
much. See just as well as when it's fair. Black an' white's 
all the same to me. Funny 'bout that letter, Alice. I thought 
sure Achsah'd give it to Hannah. 

Han. Well, what if she did ? Is it any of your business ? 
You're a meddlesome old fool, Bart Hackett ! 

Alice. Then there ivas a letter? 

Han. Miss Roberts, don't you want to go up-stairs a little 
while? Supper won't be ready quite yet. 

Alice. Miss Roberts, please don't go. Mrs. Webster, will 
you please give me my letter? 

Han. I'll do no such thing ! I know who it is from, and I 
won't have my John writing to you. I've seen how things 
were goin'. I've seen you makin' eyes at him. Do you sup- 
pose I'd let my son marry a girl from nobody knows where? 
A girl who has worked in his kitchen— done his drudgery — a 
girl with no people, no name, for all I know. 

Hazel. Oh, Mrs. Webster, what are you saying? 

Han. You keep out of this. 

Alice. Give me my letter. If your son were here, he 
would not allow you to say such things to me. 

Han. If my son were here, he would obey me as he has 
always done. 

Alice. That letter belongs to me. You say he is your son 
— what would you wish him to do if any one spoke of you as 
you have spoken of my mother ? Give me my letter, and I 
will leave your house this instant. 

Han. There is your letter — take it if you can get it ! 

{She thrusts the letter into the fire ^ holding it in the flame i 
as Alice struggles to rescue it.^ 



14 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

Hazel. Oh — she has burned it ! 

Bakt. Tarnation, Hannah, what you done? You ain't 
burned up a letter that don't belong to ye? That's tamperin' 
with the mail ! That's a crime ! That's Slate's Prison doings ! 
Jabe Kendall will be wrilin' to Washington about ye ! An' 
we're witnesses — me an' Miss Roberts — we see ye do it ! 

(/// the silence wliich follows, David Jameson e?iters. He 
carries a bunch of dried catnip. Apparently unconscious 
of anything unusual, he calls softly, ^^ Kit — kit — kit.''~) 

David. Here's a little treat I brought for kitty. {No 
one speaks.) Why, what's the matter? You don't look 
happy. 

Bart {uneasily). Hullo, David. Stormin' some, ain't she? 

David. Yes, she's goin' to be a wicked one. Snowin' now 
so you can't see your hand before your face. 

Bart. Guess 'tain't any worse out than 'tis in — guess 
it's kind o' lucky you come along, David. Hannah, here, 
she's 

Han. Bart Hackett, will you mind your business ? 

Alice. Oh, David — David — she has 

David. There, there, Alice, wait just a minute. Hannah, 
what has happened to put ye in one of your tempers ? 

Han. I may as well tell you as Bart, here. He knows all 
about it, so the whole village will learn it before mornin'. If 
I tell you myself, you'll get it straight. I've only just found 
out what I've surmised for a good while. This hussy here has 
been tryin* for my boy — she's inveigled him into writin' to 
her — I don't know how many letters she has had, but I know 
there's one she didn't get, for I just burned it up ! 

David. Now, Hannah, that wa'n't right. 

Han. Right or wrong — what do you suppose / care where 
John's welfare is concerned ? I mean him for something better 
than a nameless girl. It's only a boy's fancy, anyhow. Seein* 
her round under his nose all the time, she's bewitched him — 
that's what it is. He'll forget all about her when she's gone — 
and out you go, miss ! Ill put a stop to this, right now ! 

Alice. I'm going, Mrs. Webster. I shaw't stay here any 
longer. John would not want me to, now. You said I'd done 
his drudgery — worked in his kitchen. That's all true — and 
because it was for John, whom I loved and who loves me, Mrs. 
Webster, it was not drudgery. What did you do for the man 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 1 5 

you married? Didn't you work for Ji'un ? Didn't you wash 
for him, and mend for him? Didn't you keep his home clean 
and attractive? Didn't you make his bed and cook his food ? 
Was that drudgery ? Is it degrading for a woman to labor for 
the man she loves? To make him comfortable? If it seemed 
drudgery for you to do these things for your husband — then I 
think you never knew what love is. \_Exit. 

David. Hannah, that child is opening old wounds. 
Hannah, you're hurt now, and you don't know what you're 
doing. But remember what your temper did for you years 
ago ! Remember the night you turned a man away from your 
door ! 

Han. David, don't you dare to come between John and 
me ! You know he's all I've got. Do you suppose I'm going 
to let him take up with a nameless hussy? 

Bart. Go slow there, Hannah Webster ! Remember you're 
speakin' of the girl John loves. 

Han. So you know it too ? I suppose every one in town 
knows it except his mother ? Well, slie knows it now ! And 
out that girl goes ! I'll end this to-night. 

David. Hannah, you've had your own way all your life, 
and only the Lord knows whether it's been pleasant or not. 
But there's some things that are too mighty for you. And love 
is one of them. Do you tliink John will be any more anxious 
to please you when he knows you've turned Alice out? 

Bart. Hannah, you don't mean to put that girl out into 
such a night as this? Why, it's a raging blizzard — 'tain't fit 
for a woman to step foot outside the house ! 

Han. I'll risk her. She thinks too much of her precious 
clothes to go out in this weather. But not another mouthful 
does she get under my roof. This isn't what I took her for 
when you brought her to me, David Jameson ! 

David. I'll take her to a place where she won't bother ye, 
Hannah. I don't want her to stay where she ain't welcome. 
I'll drive round for her in the mornin'. But, Hannah, you 
let her alone to-night. Don't you say anything more to her. 
I'll be goin' along, now. Good-night. {^He goes towai-d the 
door, then turns to say.) if I was you, Hannah, I'd think 
over what I'd said an' done. Come, Bart, I'm goin' your way 
an' I'll pilot you. Jack's waitin' in the shed an* if the storm's 
too much for us, he'll find the way. 

Enter Hazel, swiftly, white and frightened. 



l6 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

Hazel. She's gone ! Out through the barn and into the 
storm ! Oh, it's awful — I called but she wouldn't answer. I 
tried to run after, but she vanished. The snow cuts like 
knives, and the wind drifts it so I could not see her footprints. 
Oh, Mrs. Webster, you cruel woman, what have you done ? 
And the things 1 said — she will think 

Bart. Gone! Into this night? An' the wind howlin' so 
you couldn't hear the horn o' tiie angel Gabriel ! Hannah 
Webster, 1 guess Jabe Kendall will have somethin' to write 
about now — it's plain murder — that's what it is ! 

David. Oh» Hannah, see what your temper has brought 
you to once more. Come, Bart, we must find her. Miss 
Roberts, can't you get me something she has worn lately? It 
might help some if we could give Jack the scent. 

[Exii Hazel. 

Bart. Gosh-all-hemlock, what'll folks say ? 

Han. I guess you won't have to look far — she'll come back 
as soon as she begins to feel uncomfortable. 

Entet- Hazel, zvith kitchen apron. 

Hazel. Here's her apron — she just took it off. 

Han. H'm, she wa'n't in such a tearin' hurry but she could 
stop to fix herself up ! 

Bart. Hannah Webster, thank the Lord I ain't your hus- 
band ! 

David. Come, Bart, there's no time to waste. Hannah, 
while you're thinkin' it all out, in the dark, you just imagine 
how you'd have felt if Charlie Blanchard's mother had done 
this to you. An* what Charlie would have thought of her. 
You were a girl once, an' I remember the time when you never 
dreamed your name would be Webster. 

\_Exeu7it David and Bart at rear door. 

Hazel (watching at the wijidow). It is a fearful night — 
that poor girl ! 

Han. I'll have supper in a minute. Miss Roberts, I'm 
sorry this should have happened, but I'll have things ready 
pretty soon now. 

Hazel. Supper? Do you think I would eat with you 
now ? Have you no feelings ? Have you no lieart ? 

Han. {laughing gri77ily). Heart ? I had one once — but 
it's old and dried now — like me ! Feelin's? No — not now — 
only love for my boy {Fiercely.') My baby— the child 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS f] 

I bore — the only creature God let; me keep ! An' I'll do what 
I think is best for him — I'll not have his life ruined as mine 
was — I'll spare him that — at any cost ! He doesn't love this 
girl — he would have told me — she shan't have him — do you 
hear ? She shan't have him ! 



CURTAIN 



ACT II 

SCENE. — The village store and post-office. Shelves ^ well 
stocked with goods. Post-office boxes at side, laith counter 
beyond. Large, round stove in center. Box of saw- dust 
beside it. Settee in front of grocery counter. Wooden 
chairs about stove. Notices of auctions, dances and enter- 
tainments posted about, some of them shoiving unmistakable 
signs of age. Rubber boots and heavy mittens hanging from 
beams overhead. Entrance door at rear ; another at side, 
leading to Achsah Kittredge's room back of the store. 
Frank Sanders and Hiram Preston sit by the stove, their 
chairs tipped back ; they smoke in sociable silence. At last 
Frank speaks. 

Frank. Jabe Kendall is about the meanest cuss I ever see, 
tryin' to git this place away from Achsah, when she's had it 
ever since her father died. She was brought up in this here 
store — it's the only home she's ever known. 

Hiram. I can remember when the old man used to h'ist 
her up onto the counter when she wa'n't bigger' n a pint o* 
cider, and he'd put her little hands onto the tobacco cutter an' 
make her think she was a-runnin' it. But mebbe Jabe won't 
have it all his own way quite so much as he thinks for. Didn't 
ye hear what David was up to ? 

Frank. No — what ? 

Hiram. Ain't you heard that? Well, you know that time 
when Jabe went away an' stayed three year ? Said he'd been 
drivin' stage out West, you remember ? 

Frank. He was always terrible close-mouthed 'bout them 
three years. 

Hiram. Well he might be, I guess. You know Bart 
Hackett's always nosin' round an' tryin' to find out every- 
body's business, but even he couldn't git Jabe started on that. 
Well, it's the queerest thing. Here 'bout two weeks ago, 
wiien that drummer was here — you know, tlie dark-complected 
feller that boarded up to Mary Lizy's — well, b.e come from the 
West, an' when he see Jabe he acted sort o' surprified like. 
Bart — he was a-settin' right where I be now, an' he heard the 
hull conversation. Seemed this drummer used to liave a route 

i8 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS I9 

in the West, an' he hailed Jabe, sayin', ''Ain't you the feller 
that used to work for a man named Tompkins, out near 
Chicago?" Jabe says, " Guess you're mistaken in your man, 
mister," but he didn't seem to like it very well, an' he went 
right out o' the store. Then Bart hails the drummer an' asks 
him about it. Drummer swears he ain't mistaken, an' adds 
that Jabe left old man Tompkins pretty sudden, an' he'd heard 
some o' Tompkins* money went along, too. Drummer says 
he don't know but Tompkins would be glad to see Jabe. 

Frank. Jabe Kendall ? You don't say ! 

Hiram. Yes — an' Bart asks him why he don't send out 
there an' find out, but drummer says it's none o' his hunt. 
Then Bart hikes right out after David an' tells him the story, 
an* David gets the name o' the town from the drummer, an* 
writes out there to the chief of police, askin' him about it, an* 
describin' Jabe just as careful, 'cause probably he might have 
been under another name or somethin'. 

Frank. Well, say, ain't that grand ? I'd like to see Jabe 
Kendall get his come-uppance first-rate. 

Hiram. Guess there's a few others around here that would, 
too. David ain't heard nothin' yet, but he's lookin* for a 
letter every day. Don't say anythin' about it. He don't want 
Achsah should know till he's sure. 

Frank. Of course he don't. David's all right, now I tell 
ye. He ain't much of a talker, but when it comes to doin', 
he's right there. 

Enter ken., from side. 

AcH. It's a bad night, boys; lucky you don't live far from 
here. Guess there won't be much trade this evenin*. 

Frank. How soon do you calculate the appointment will 
be made, Achsah ? 

AcH. I don't know, Frank. Most any time now, I expect. 
1 suppose I'll be movin' out o' the old place pretty soon. It'll 
be quite a change. 

Hiram. Never say die, Achsah ! Jabe Kendall ain't sortin' 
tlie mail just yet, an' maybe he never will be. Ain't any other 
candidate, is there ? 

AcH. Oh, no. Jabe's the only one that's runnin' against 
me. 

Frank. What a fool question. Hi ! Ain't another man in 
town would do a thing like that. 



20 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

Hiram. That petition David sent on ought to do some 
good. It had some pretty hefty names on it. 

AcH. I know — David's awful good. I don't know what 
we'd all do without David. 

Frank. Jabe Kendall calls him a shif 'less old do-nothin' — 
says he just roams round the woods all day long. 

ACH. I guess David's got a right to take a day off in the 
woods once in a while if he wants to. 'Tain't anythin' out o' 
Jabe Kendall's pocket. Jabe Kendall is mischief-makin' iill 
the time. He can't say much — he loafs round this store more 
time than David spends in the woods. An' David is always 
after somethin' to help some sick person — if it's nothin' but 
catnip for babies an' cats. 

Hiram. David's all right, Achsah. Now don't you worry. 

AcH. I shan't — any more'n I can help. {Stiifubliiig foot- 
steps are heard outside. The door is flung open, and Bart 
staggers in, panting, exhausted, and covered with snow.') 
Mercy, Bart, what's the matter? What you doin' out such a 
night as this ? 

(Frank and Hiram rise swiftly. Frank shuts the door.) 

Bart. Who's here ? Any men ? Anybody that can get 
out an* help hunt a lost girl ? 

Frank. Here's Hiram an' me, all ready. Who is it ? 

ACH. Lost ? What's happened ? 

Bart. It's Alice. Hannah Webster flew into one o' her 
rages because she found out that John was writin' to Alice, an' 
she twitted Alice 'bout her folks, sayin' she wa'n't a fit wife for 
John, an' at last she told her to go, an' Alice took her at her 
word ; she's out in the storm somewhere — goodness knows 
where ! Got some lanterns, Achsah ? 

AcH. Oh— oh— poor child ! Wait, Bart, I'll light the 
lanterns in a second. 

{She gets three lanterns and lights them.) 

Hiram. How'd you hear about it, Bart ? Is anybody else 
out ? Hadn't we better ring the church-bell ? 

Bart. No, not yet. I was there through it all, but I can't 
stop to tell ye now. Only Hannah burned up Alice's letter. 
David come in right after she did it. He's out lookin' for 
AHce. 

AcH. David ! 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 21 

Bart. He wants two strong men. Site can't be far away. 
Ain't had time. He don't want notbin' said about it if it can 
be helped. Guess he thinks he can bring Hannah to her 
senses. Told nie to come here an' see if I could get two men. 
Said I'd probably find you an' Frank here, Hiram. Said if he 
could git you, he could depend on ye. Wants us to spread 
out an' go up toward the old pound road where the old house 
was burned. Thinks maybe she'd go that way. Wants Achsah 
to have plenty o' hot water an' blankets. Said he'd bring 
Alice here. Come on, boys — I'm all right now. 

ACH. Bart, you ought not to go out again in this weather. 

Bart. S'pose I'm goin' to set round the stove like an old 
woman when Alice Plummer's lost in the snow, an' the night 
an' the day's alike to me. Come on, boys. 

Hiram. All ready — let's have the lanterns, Achsah. 

\_Exeunt Frank, Hiram and Bart. 

ACH. I'd better get the water on to heat. And I'll put a 
light in the windows — maybe that will help some. Poor Alice ! 
So Hannah found out before John told her — that's what's the 
matter. Gracious — perhaps it's my fault ! She didn't know 
he was writin' to her? Come to think of it, David's been 
takin' Hannah's mail up since John went away. Or else Alice 
has been for it herself. There was a letter to-night, I remem- 
ber, an' Hannah came for the mail. That's it ! And I sup- 
pose that wicked tongue of hers was more than Alice could 
stand. Oh, Hannah wasn't always like this. I remem- 
ber [Exit, 

Enter Jabe Kendall. 

J ABE {looking about). Huh ! post-office all alone ! Any- 
body could come in an' help themselves to anything they 
wanted ! How do I know but some o* my mail's been stole 
already? Ain't none in my box. When I git this job, things 
will be different. {Shouts.') Hey, there ! Ain't there nobody 
here to wait on customers ? Achsah — Achsah — where be ye ? 
I want a plug o' tobacco. 

Enter Ach. 

AcH. Oh, Jabe, I'm so glad you come in just as you did. 
Alice Plummer is lost in the storm. The boys have just this 
minute gone out to look for her. If you hurry you can catch 
up with them. They took lanterns. Didn't you see them? 
Have you got your team ? 



22 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

Jabe. How'd she come to be lost, I'd like to know ? 

ACH. Never mind that now. Only go — go quick ! Bart 
Hackett came here for help, an' he an' Frank an' Hiram have 
just left. David's out, too. They'll be glad to have you. 

Jabe. Well, I guess they will, when they git me ! Catch 
me goin' trampin' around this night, huntin' after any girl ! 
She probably knows what she's doin'. I guess she didn't get 
far. 1 guess there was some feller round the corner with a 
buggy. 1 guess ticket agent's the one to inquire of — she's 
eloped ! That's all. 

AcH. No, Jabe, no ! She's lost, I tell you. 

Jabe. Well, well, she's lost, then. An' she's goin' to stay 
lost for all o' me. I'm 'bout ready to turn in. 

AcH. Do you mean you ain't goin' with the boys, Jabe? 

Jabe. That's just what I mean. Had all the Plummer I 
want to-day. Been up to the old place where her mother was 
burned, all day, diggin' an' blastin'. Some fool from the city 
has bought it, and noihin' would do but he must start right off 
on the cellar for his new bungalow. Nice time o' year to start 
a cellar ! Might have known we'd have a storm before we got 
half done. An' I struck bed-rock to-day, an' had to blast. 
Set off a good one just 'fore I left. Snow an' rocks an' dirt 
flyin' all over creation ! Must have tore all the rubbish out o' 
that old cellar-hole, all right. Don't know but it spoiled the 
well — don't care if it did. Didn't stop to see. Here, Achsah, 
gimme that plug o' tobacco, an' I'll be movin'. 

AcH. Jabe Kendall, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! 
Lettin' a poor old blind man like Bart Hackett tramp all over 
town a night like this when you run for the house an' your 
tobacco ! 

Jabe. No call for me to make a fool o' myself, even if Bart 
Hackett does, is there ? Gimme that tobacco ! 

AcH. No, I won't ! I can do that much to make you un- 
comfortable, anyway. 

Jabe. Refuse to sell me goods, do you? We'll see what 
kind o* campaign readin' that'll make. We'll see whether the 
President is goin' to appoint a person like that to be post- 
mistress. \_Extf, slamming the door. 

AcH. There goes the meanest man in creation. — Oh, hear 
that wind I I wonder where Alice is — and David. — I hope 
he's dressed warm. — I've got all the hot water I can get on the 
stove, an' bricks lieatin' in the oven, an' blankets warmin', an' 
a good pot o' coffee all ready — oh, I wish there was somethin' 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 23 

I could do ! This waitin' here an' wonderin' is awful nervin'. 

But, there, how must Hannah feel? Seems as if she must 

What was that noise? — I declare, I'm so nervous I can't keep 
still ! (67/<f wanders about, peertJig out of the tvindoivSy and 
shading her eyes with her ha7ids.') Oh, dear ! Seems as if 
things were all^crossvvays now — that appointment — an' now this 

awful thing — what's that? I thought I heard a call (She 

listefis. Faint cries are heard, '■'• Aclisah — Achsahy They 
come nearer. Then, ^* Achsah, open the door f) It's David! 

(She rnns to the door, flinging it open, as David stumbles in 
with Alice, half unconscious, in his arms.) 

David. Hot things, Achsah — quick — an' dry clothes. She's 
all right, I guess, but it's lucky we found her before she wan- 
dered into the woods. 

{They place Alice in a chair.) 

AcH. Bring her in the kitchen, David, an' lay her on the 
lounge. You're soppin* wet yourself. 

David. Never mind me — just 'tend to Alice. {He carries 
her into the next room. AcH. follows. David returns, and 
sinks into a chair, panting.) She's all right now. — She's in 
good, kind hands if ever a girl was. — No wicked words here. 
— I s'pose I ought to go an* tell Hannah — soon as I'm rested a 
bit. — No. — I guess it won't hurt Hannah to do a little bit o' 
worryin'. — I'll tell her to-morrow— if somebody else don't get 
ahead o* me. 

{He sits there, breathing heavily. After a pause, enter Ach.) 

AcH. I've got off her wet clothes, David, an' wrapped her 
in warm blankets. She won't say a word — ^just moans an' 
cries ! I want you should carry her up to bed, please. Now 
you get off those wet coats an' dry 'em out by the kitchen stove. 
I can't have you gettin' your death o' cold, on top of every- 
thing else. {She begins to cry.) 

David. There, there, Achsah, don't take on ! It's all right 
now. Ain't no real harm done yet. Hannah' 11 feel different 
in the mornin'. \_Exil. 

Ach. He needn't think that — I know Hannah Webster. 
She won't stop here. She'll be packin' John off somewhere 
next. I'll keep Alice here with me anyway, — well, I'll keep 
her as long as I'm here myself. Lord only knows how long 



24 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

that will be ! David's on her side, anyway — that's worth a 
good deal. I don't know how we could get along without 
David. I vv'ish — oh, what's the use o' wishin' ? Stop your 
fussiu', Achsah — it don't make things a bit better. Count your 
blessin's and count David's friendship as number one. 

Enter David. 

Davjd. I guess she'll go to sleep now. Give me a cup o' 
coffee, if you've got some, Achsah, an' I'll go out an' find the 
boys. 

ACH. David, you're not going out again — you're going to 
stay right here an' get warm an' dry. Didn't you make any 
arrangements in case she was found ? 

David. Told 'em to come back here in half an hour if they 
didn't see no trace of her, an' we'd make another start. 

AcH. Well? 

David. Ain't no need for 'em to be out longer'n necessary. 
Guess I'd better hunt 'em up. 

AcH. Oh, David, David ! I wish you'd think of yourself 
once in a while ! 

David. Think o' myself? Why, I'm the most selfish old 
cuss on the face o' the earth. Just pleasin' myself all the time. 
Don't do anything all day long but tramp round the woods an' 
amuse myself — ask Jabe Kendall. {Laughs.) 

AcH. David, don't you name Jabe Kendall! He came 
here, an' 1 told him Alice was lost an' asked him to go out an' 
help you, an' he lauglied ! Yi^ sneered ! An' then he went 
home ! He ain't fit to be mentioned in the same breath with 
you, David. Please stay an' get dry. What should I do if 
anythin' happened to you? 

David. Lord, Achsah, I'm tough as a hickory log ! Won't 
nothin' hurt me. Achsah — you ain't cryin' ? Achsah — what 
was it you said ? — Do you mean it ? Would you care ? 

AcH. {sobbing). Care? Oh, David, David ! 

David {taking her in his arms'). Now praise the Lord, all 
his saints ! Achsah, don't ye ever worry another bit. This 
is happiness enough to last all our days. Good Lord, Achsah, 
what do we care now about Jabe Kendall? Let him have the 
post-office — I was just tryin' to fix things so you'd be all right. 
I've always felt I'd kind o' like to look out for ye, as far as I 
could without bein' a nuisance, but 1 never hoped — I never 
dared to think — Achsah, ain't you afraid to trust yourself to a 
shif'less old do-nothin' like me? 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 25 

AcH. Afraid — with you? 

David. 1 ralher guess 1 can manage to take care o' my wife. 
I can't believe it. But it must be true. Here you be, cuddled 
up in my arms — i^siiddenly^) an' right against this wet coat, too ! 
Achsah, you'll get your death ! 

AcH. No, 1 shan't, but yoii will ! David, you must mind 
me now — you must begin this minute ! Take off that coat 
while I get your coffee. 

(David obeySy and she takes the coat with her into the kitchen.') 

David. My, how things can change in a minute ! — Gosh ! 
I am a selfish old wretch, settin' here makin* love when poor 
old Bart an' the boys are pokin' round in the snow. An' that 
unhappy girl up-stairs. — But I'll fix that. — I'll tell Jolin a few 
things that will help when he argues with his nja — perhaps he 
won't stop to argue; perhaps he'll act first an' talk afterwards. 
— David Jameson, think o' the blessin's you're goin' to have all 
the rest o' your life. 

Enter AcH. , with a cup of steaming coffee, 

AcH. Now, drink this — every bit of it. 

David. It's too hot. I'll have to wait a little. 

AcH. While it cools, tell me about Alice. 

David {talking betiveen sips of coffee'). I didn't see the 
whole of it, but from what I gathered, an' from what Bart told 
me, it was this way. You know the new schoolma'am is 
boardin' with Hannah. Well, of course, she's from the city, 
an' she's nice-lookin' an' well-educated, an' Hannah begun 
tellin' her about John — John bein' away lumberin' so's he 
couldn't speak for himself — don't know as he'd had a chance 
if he'd been there 

AcH. An' all before Alice, I s'pose. Drink that while it's 
hot, David. 

David. Sure ! An' I guess Alice worried quite a bit. 
Well, to-night Hannah got hold o' one o' John's letters to 
Alice, an' decided not to give it to her. 

AcH. Oh, David ! 

David. But Bart Hackett — funny how Bart manages to get 
into everything — heard you say somethin' when you was sortin' 
the mail, an' he was there when Hannah come home, an' he 
spoke about it. Then the fat was in the fire, an' Hannah 
burned up the letter, an' told Alice to go. She said some 
pretty hard things about her mother, Bart said. 



26 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

ACH. The cruel woman ! 

David. Well, Achsah, you know Hannah's been through a 
good deal. We can't read each other's hearts by our looks 
an' our actions. She felt a sight worse about the way she 
treated CharHe Blanchard than she ever let on. 1 always 
thought she expected he'd come back, but lie never did. 
Then she married Jonathan Webster to show she didn't care. 
I guess she thought she might as well be rich if she couldn't be 
happy. Jonathan's losin' his mind an' shootin' himself when 
John was nothin' but a baby, was pretty hard for her. She 
ain't the kind to take pity from nobody, so she's just bound all 
her affection up in John. 

AcH. David, I wish I was as charitable as you are. 

David. Don't you ever let me hear you say such a thing 
as that again, Achsah. It's only that I know how Hannah 
feels. She's just like the animals in the woods, doin' all she 
can for her young one. She wants John to have the best 
there is. 

AcH. Then she surely shouldn't cheat him out of love. 

David. Well, don't you fuss about it — I guess it will all 
come out right. {Sniffling feet are heard, and voices.') 
There's the boys now — they'll be glad she's found. 

AcH. I'll get some more coffee. [Exit. 

Enter Frank and Hiram, supporting Bart, whose head is 
bleeding from a cut on the forehead. Hiram carries a 
rusty tin box, covered with dust and dirt. 

Bart. No, you ain't goin' to leave me here, neither ! I'll 
just get Achsah to tie up this blamed cut, an' then I'm goin' 
back with ye. 

Frank. No, Bart, you ain't fit. 

David. She's found, boys — she's here, safe and sound ! 

Bart. Glory be ! An' three times three ! Where'd ye 
find her, David ? 

David. Headin' toward the old pound road. I reckoned 
she'd go that way. She hadn't gone so very far. I guess 
she'd been off the road a good deal. She was kind o' crazy — 
didn't really know what she was doin'. 

Enter AcH. 

AcH. She's sleepin' now, boys. An' she'll stay right here 
till John comes home. Why, look at Bart ! He's all bloody ! 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 27 

What's happened now? Bart, you set right down in that 
chair an' let me bathe your head. (She hurries out, return- 
ing with water and cloths. While she is gone, David ex- 
amines the cut, and they talk aside.) Get your wet coats 
off, boys. There's coifee ready as soon as I see to Bart, here. 
My ! What's goin' to happen next, I wonder ! Bart, how 
did you get such a blow as this ? 

Bart (Jnipatiejitly). Gosh, Achsah, don't fuss any more 
with ray head ! 'Tain't bleedin' much now anyway. Tie it 
up anyhow. — We've got a mystery here. You see this box ? 
Where is it, Hiram? Ye ain't lost it, have ye? 

AcH. I don't care if you've got all the gold of Injy. 
You're goin' to have this cut seen to, an' you're all goin' to 
drink some hot coffee as soon as you can. Your old box will 
keep that long, I know. 

Bart. But, Achsah, you don't realize \_Exit AcH. 

David. Set down an' behave yourself, Bart. Boys, where 
did you go? 

Hiram. Well, we did 'bout as you suggested— spread out 
in a line, near enough to keep track of each other by hoUerin', 
an' beat up the woods toward the old place. We must have 
missed you at the corner. 

Frank. An' we was goin' along, with our heads down, 
fightin' against the wind 

Enter Ach., with the coffee, which she serves while they talk. 

Bart. An' we must have gone a good deal further'n I 
realized, because, all of a sudden, the ground give way under 
me, an' down I went ! 

Hiram. He let out a yell when he went, an* 'twas lucky 
he did, for that was the last sound he made for some time. 

Ach. Where on earth were you ? 

Bart. Come pretty nigh bein' under the earth instead of 
on it, Achsah. 'Twas the old cellar hole of Alice's house, but 
somethin's happened to it, because I been by there a hundred 
times, but I never fell in before. 

V Ach. It's bigger. Jabe Kendall's diggin' a cellar there for 
somebody that's bought the place an' is goin' to put up a bun- 
galow, an' he's been blastin' there to-day. 

Hiram. More o' Jabe's work, hey ? That accounts for it, 
Bart. Well, we come a-runnin' an' pretty nigh went in our- 
selves, an' there lay Bart, all of a heap. 



28 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

Bart (/// great excitement). I lit on my head when I fell, 
an' this is what I struck. 

AcH. What is it? 

Frank. Just what we wrait to know. When we was luggin' 
Bart out o' the hole, my foot hit the thing, an' as soon as we 
saw what it was, we brouglit it along with us. 

Hiram. It's locked, you see. 

{They all examine the box.) 

David {thoughtfully). You say it was in the old cellar? 

Bart. Yes, right about under the bedroom, as near as we 
could tell. I come to right away — I was only stunned — an* 
the fust thing 1 said was, ''Where's that tarnation rock I hit 
on?" an' Hiram says, ** 'Tain't a rock. It's a box," an' I 
says, "What kind of a box? " an' Hi says, *'A deed box," 
an' all of a sudden it flashed across me how Alice's mother 
run back into the blazin' house, an' nobody ever knew what 
for, an' 

AcH. Oh, David, do you suppose — oh, open it ! Open it, 
quick ! 

Bart. Well, that's what I been tryin' to get ye to do ever 
since we come in. Give us a hammer, Achsah. 

David. But the box isn't ours. If there is anything of 
value here, it belongs to Alice. We haven't any right to 
open it. 

Bart. Tarnation, David ! There ain't nothin* to show 
it's Alice's. That's all guesswork. Might have belonged to 
old man Jenks that lived there before they did. Might have 
been hid in the chimney for a hundred years for all you know ! 
Fiudin's keepin's, ain't it? An' I found it sure enough! 
{Rubs his head.) Give it to me, if you're so squeamish. 
I'll open it ! Where's that hammer, Achsah ? 

AcH. He's right, David, The only way to know is to 
look. 

(David opens the box. They all crowd about him. He 
lifts out some folded, yellowed papers.) 

Bart. Papers ! Papers I I hear *em cracklin'. What be 
they, David ? 

Hiram (bendifig over David's shoulder). Them's govern- 
ment bonds. I've seen 'em down to the bank. See the 
coupons ? 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 29 

Bart. Money ? Money ? Tarnation ! It's lucky we found 
this 'fore Jabe Kendall did ! 

AcH. He told me he set the last blast off so late he didn't 
stop to see what it did. He said he didn't care. 

Frank. I'll bet he'll do some carin' when he hears about 
this. 

David. There's more than bonds here. Here's a marriage 
certificate. 

Hiram. That one says ** Record of Birth." 

David. Those are for Alice to see first. It is her 
right. They may tell her what she has longed to know all her 
life. 

Bart. Ain't ye goin' to look at 'em ? 

AcH. Here's something here, David. See? It is marked, 
**To whom it may concern." 

Bart. That's us, all right. We're concerned. Read that, 
David 1 

David. You read it, Achsah. 

AcH. {iakifig folded paper from long envelope^ and reading. 
As she reads and a glhnmering of the meaning dawns upon 
her, her voice breaks^ and the others show fee li7ig'). ** I can- 
not rest with the burden of my secret upon me. Neither can 
I bring myself to tell it. Therefore I write it here. Some day 
I may tell Ahce." 

Frank. 'Tis about Alice, after all, boys. 

Bart. Hush up, can't ye? Go on, Achsah. 

AcH. '' If I never do, she will find it here after my death. 
I am not Mary Plummer. I was once. There are documents 
here to prove all that I say. My husband was a native of this 
town. He was a good husband to me, and I was a happy 
woman, yet — there was a secret chamber in his life, to which I 
was not admitted. When he knew that he must die, he opened 
the door. He told me why he left this town. He asked me 
to live here. You who find his name at the end of this paper 
may perhaps know why he wished it. There had been another 
woman, a woman whom he always loved, though she drove him 
from her." 

Bart. Gosh, listen to that ! 

AcH. Wait, Bart. {Resumes.) '^ He gave me money to 
provide for her, if she should be in want. Because it was his 
wish, and because I loved him, I came. But I could not bring 
his name to the woman who had scorned him. I would help 
her, as he bade me, but she should never know whose thought 



30 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 



had planned for her. She had spurned him living — she should 
not have him dead " 

David. Poor Mary ! And poor Hannah ! 

ACH. " I took my own name — Plummer. Yet for the sake 
of my child, I must leave this record. It is all that will ever 
show her parentage. Yet, perhaps there is another reason. I 
found the woman a widow, like myself, but prosperous — self- 
sufficient — asking aid or pity from no one. Yet 1 seemed to 
see beneath her hard exterior a something — perhaps I am 
wrong. My husband always loved her. If I were in her place, 
I should want to know that. I cannot tell her ! He would 
not ask me to do that ! But I must write it here. She may 
never see it. / shall never give it to her. When I die, this 
box will fall into other hands. I cannot tell what may happen 
tnen. The woman is Hannah Webster. My husband was 
Charles Blanchard. Mary Plummer Blanchard." 

Bart (awed and subdued). Gosh, boys, my old blind head 
amounts to somethin', after all. It's found a father for Alice- 
why, do you see what this means ? It's all right now ! Han- 
nah can't say anythin' ! Alice is Charlie Blanchard's girl ! 

David (j-everently). 

*'God moves in a mysterious way. 
His wonders to perform. 
He plants His footsteps in the sea, 
And rides upon the storm." 



CURTAIN 



ACT III 

SCENE. — The post-office, the next afternoon. The storm has 
cleared, but the roads are still heavy with snow. ACH. is 
behind the counter. David, /// front, leans toward her. 

AcH. An' you're sure you don't feel any cold, David ? 

David. Not a mite. Bless your lieart, dear, it would take 
more than the worst blizzard we ever had to make me get cold 
after what you said last night. 

ACH. You're glad, then, David ? 

David. Glad ain't the right word. I'm thankful ! 

AcH. Alice slept all night, an' when she waked this mornin', 
she found the box right on the bed beside her. She can't 
hardly realize it — she keeps readin' 'em all over. She don't 
say much. I really think she cares more about what it wiK 
mean for Jo'nn than for herself. 

David. Has she mentioned Hannah ? 

AcH. No — but she has read the letter. She knows. 

David. John ought to be here soon — that is, if the tele- 
gram got through all right. 

AcH. What did you say? 

David. Just enougli to bring him, that's all. You didn't 
tell Alice I'd sent for him, did you ? 

AcH. No. You told me not to. 

David. That's right. This is a matter for him to handle 
now. We've done our part. 

AcH. I'll tell Alice you're here. She wants to thank you. 
(Calls.) Alice, here's David. 

Enter Alice. 

Alice. David — oh, I can't say what I'd like to ! What 
you did for me last night can't be thanked in words. It has 
to be lived out all one's life, and that's what I'm going to do 
for you. 

David. There — there, Alice; why, I didn't do anythin'. 
*Twas Bart did it all. Bart found the box. 

Alice. And you found me ! What good would the papers 
do me dead ? I was insane, I think, when I ran out into the 
storm. It wasn't only last night, David. That was only one 

3^ 



32 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

time of many. But something seemed to snap in my brain, 
and all I remember after that is shaking — shaking in the cold 
^ — till you came ! 

^ David. Don't talk about it, little girl. Why, anybody'd 
done the same. Frank an' Hiram was out, too. 

Alice. I know — 1 know — oh, you are all so good. 

David. I s'pose you read that letter, Alice ? 

Alice. Over and over ! Poor mother ! — David, I think 
Mrs. Webster has a good deal to answer for. She spoiled two 
lives. 

AcH. She spoiled three lives — you forget her own, Alice. 
And your father was always kind to your mother — she says so. 
She was not entirely unhappy. 

Alice. I suppose so. I can't remember him. 

David. Hannah had the worst of it, Alice. She loved 
your father with all her heart — I knew 'em when they were 
sweethearts. But she had a temper then as now, an' she hurt 
him — hurt him cruel ! It's bad enough to be hurt, girl, when 
it ain't your fault, but it's a thousand times worse to hurt 
somebody you love — an' never have a chance to say you're 
sorry. — That's the canker that has eat into Hannah's soul all 
these years ! 

Alice. She drove him away, just as she did me, didn't 
she? 

David. Yes, she hurt him so he never came back. But 
when she said those things to you she hadn't an idea you were 
Charlie Blanchard's girl any more'n you had. Be just, Alice. 
You've got all your happiness before you. If there's a little 
bit o' consolation that you can put into the life of a lonely old 
woman, is it for you to hold your hand ? 

Alice. You think it is my duty to show her that letter ? 

AcH. Just take it home to yourself, dear. Imagine it was 
you an' John. That'll tell you without our sayin' a word. 
But, whatever happens, don't let anything come between you 
an' the man you love ! 

David. No, don't ! 

Alice. Why, you talk as if you knew all about it — Achsah 

— David — do you mean ? Is that why you understand so 

well ? 

David. Achsah an' me are aimin' to practice what we 
preach. 

Alice. I'm so glad — you dear, dear people ! {Enter 
Hiram and Bart. Exit David.) Hcre'b Bart ! How is your 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 



33 



poor head this morning, Bart ? I never can thank you enough 
for finding those papers. And you, too, Hiram. They have 
changed my whole life. 

Bart {^jubilantly'). My old head was some good, after all, 
wasn't it, Alice? It's found out what nobody else could — 
found out who your pa was, Alice. That box was what your 
ma went back for. 

Alice. Poor mother ! 

Bart. An' there it lay, all these years, under the rubbish, 
till this old fool fell into a hole that Jabe Kendall blasted. 

Hiram. That's one good thing Jabe's done, but then it's 
no credit to him, 'cause he didn't mean to do it. How do 
you feel, Alice ? 

Alice. Rather tired, and bewildered. 

AcH. Go in the back room and rest, Alice. Now the 
roads are gettin* broke out, there's likely to be folks in, an' 
perhaps you don't feel much like talkin' just yet. 

\^Exit Alice. 

Bart. Well, I rather guess there'll be plenty o' talkin' in 
this town as soon as folks find out what has happened. Ain't 
had nothin' so excitin' as this since the lion got away from 
the circus. 

Hiram {looking out the door). Here comes the school- 
ma'am. 

Enter Hazel. 

Hazel. Good-morning, everybody. Miss Achsah, may I 
see you alone a minute ? 

Bart. Ain't no need o' that, Miss Roberts. She's here ! 

Hazel. What do you mean ? 

Bart. Guess you're down here to talk about Alice, ain't 
ye? Needn't be afraid to speak up — Hiram here, he was out 
huntin' for her with the rest of us, an' she's right in the back 
room, safe an' sound. 

Hazel. What a relief ! Then you know all about it. Miss 
Achsah. You see I felt as if I were partly to blame. I didn't 
realize how it was with Alice and John, and I was joking about 
falling in love with him myself. I never would have said what 
I did if I had known how serious it was. 

AcH. And Hannah ? 

Hazel. Mrs. Webster has hardly spoken. She locked up 
the house as usual, and went to her room. I don't believe she 
slept any more than I did. You see we could not know whether 



34 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 



you had found her or not, and I imagined all sorts of dreadful 
things. This morning Mrs. Webster got breakfast, but said 
she wasn't hungry. The breakfast wasn't touched. When 
dinner time came, she told me she had eaten hers. I ate a lit- 
tle alone. Then they broke out the roads, and I came here. 

AcH. Poor Hannah — but go in and see Alice, Miss Roberts 
— she has good news for you. [^£xt^ Hazel. 

Bart. Where did David go ? I thought I heard his voice 
when I came in. 

AcH. He's gone to the station to meet the down train. 

Bart. John's comin', hey? Well, we'd better straighten 
the hull matter out an' have it over, I s'pose. Wonder if Jabe 
Kendall's heard about that box yet ! (Chuckles.) That's a 
good one on Jabe ! 

Erifer Mar. 

Mar. Hullo, Achsah — hullo, boys. Awful storm, wasn't 
it? I declare I'm so flurried, I don't know where I'm at ! 
What do you think has happened ? I've got a boarder ! Yes, 
at this time o' year ! Drove over from Hunnewell this mornin'. 
Said they told him at the livery stable that 1 was a good cook. 
Said he wasn't goin' to slay long, but he had a little business 
in town, an' wanted a place wliere he could get a good bed, 
an' three square meals a day. 

Bart. Drummer, ain't he? Don't ye know him? 

Mar. Never set eyes on him in all my life. Can't find out 
what he wants, either. He talks all the time, too, an' when 
he gets through you ain't a bit wiser than when he began. 

Bart. Glory ! Guess I better have a look at hmi. He 
sounds interestin'. 

Mar. He'll likely be down here by an' by. Achsah, give 
me some corn-starch, an' some bacon, an' a pail o' lard, an' 
some breakfast food, an' a yeast-cake, an' a bag o' pastry flour 
an' — oh, got any oranges? 

AcH. Yes, plenty. 

Bart. Well, now, I wonder who the critter is ! By gum ! 
I'll bet he's a inspector, come on to look over the ground 'bout 
this post-office appointment. That's just what he is. I'll put 
a flea in his ear about Jabe Kendall, see if I don't ! 

Hiram. P'raps he's oneo' them patent-medicinemen. Did 
he say anythin' about givin' a show in the hall, Marlhy ? 

Mar. No — he ain't that kind. He's clean-shaven — they 
most all wear face-trimmin's. 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 35 

AcH. Here's your things, Martha. 

Hiram. Lemme take that flour out to the wagon for ye. 

Enter Hazel. 

Hazel. Good-bye, Miss Achsah. I think I'll go back 
now. 

AcH. Miss Roberts, let me make you acquainted with Mrs. 
Stetson. Marthy, this is the schoolma'am. She's boardin' up 
to Hannah's. Can't you give her a lift? It's heavy walkin' 
to-day. 

Mar. Of course. Pleased to meet you, Miss Roberts. 
Come right along — there's plenty of room. 

Hazel. Thank you ever so much. It is hard walking. 

{As they turn toward the door^ enter David and John 
Webster. John's/^^^ is set and stern.) 

Hiram. Hello, John. When did you get back ? 

John. Achsah, where is she ? 

David. John, wait a minute, please. I only told ye the 
bad part of it. There's more an' better, but it's AHce's right 
to tell that. I'm goin' to say one thing, though, same as I did 
to her — be awful careful about keepin' happiness from any one 
else in this world. An' remember — folks lived an' loved long 
before you was born — ^just the same as Alice an' you do now. 
An' old folks now was young folks then. Maybe this'U help 
ye to understand when Alice tells ye. 

AcH. John, don't be too hard on your mother. Remember 
you're her only child, an' she thinks more of your happiness 
than anything else in the world. 

John (bitterly). Yes — she showed it last night. Where is 
Alice ? 

Ach. In here, John. [^jc/VJohn. 

Mar. Alice here ? What does that mean ? 

Bart. I'll tell ye, Marthy — ain't ye heard? 

(Mar., Bart, Hiram and Hazel step back and talk together.) 

Ach. How did he take it, David? 

David. Just as you see him. He's pretty bitter now. 
Couldn't seem to tliink of anythin' but Alice out in the storm. 
Guess 'twas worse up where he was. 

Enter Jabe, raging. 



36 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

Jabe. Where's Bart Hackett? Where's the tliief that's beeir 
trespassin' on my land ? 

Bakt. Thief? Trespass? What you talkin' about, Jabe 
Kendall ? Your land ? You don't even own six feet of earth 
to bury your old worthless carcass in ! 

Jabe. Well, you know what I mean. It's where I'm dig- 
gin' a cellar. It's in my charge, an' anythin' that's found there 
belongs to me. 

Bart. Oh, it's in your charge, is it ? You're responsible 
for it, be ye? 

Jabe. Yes, sir. 

Bart. Well, I'm glad to hear ye say so before witnesses. 
Because I'm goin' to sue ye for leavin' it in such a condition 
that I fell in an' broke my head — so, there now. 

Jabe. We'll see who'll sue. I'm after that box 0' gold you 
an' Hiram stole up there last night. 

Bart. Well, ye won't get it ! Thai box is in the hands of 
its rightful owner. 

Hiram. Yes — an* that ain't you, neither, Jabe. 

Jabe. I demand you to produce that box. 

Bart. Demand away, if it's any comfort to you. 

Jabe. You refuse, do you ? 

Jabe. We'll see about this. I'll write to the district attor- 
ney. We'll see if two good-for-nothing old loafers can steal 
from an honest man that works hard for his livin'. 

Bart. Who might that honest man be, Jabe? 

Enter Frank, with the mail. 

Frank. Hello, folks! How's everything to-day? Down 
to normal yet? Small mail this afternoon, Achsah. 'Twon't 
take long to sort this. 

(AcH. sorts the mail. ) 

Bart. Here*s another one o' the forty thieves. Say, Frank, 
Jabe says that's his box that split my head open. He's just 
come after it. Says he's goin' to have us arrested for stealin'. 

Frank. Go as far as you like, Jabe. Written to the Presi- 
dent about us yet ? 

Jabe. You'll laugh on the other side of your mouth before 
I get through with you. 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 



37 



AcH. {coming from behind the mail boxes with an official 
envelope). David — David, look — here's my appointment ! I 
can stay ! I'm postmistress again ! Oh, David, it's all right. 

Bart. Yah — yah — Jabe Kendall, how do you like that? 
Let's see — you was goin' to be postmaster, if I remember 
rightly, wa'n't ye? Tellin' what you'd do when you got here, 
wa'n't ye? Well, ye didn't get it, did ye? No — nor you 
won't get your old box, neither. 

Jabe {looking sharply from AcH. to David). ** It's all 
right, David," — that's it, is it ? It's " David— David," is it? 
Guess I see how the land lays. You an* your petition, David 
Jameson! Mighty particular to work for her, wasn't you? 
Guess you knew what you was about. Guess you're goin* to 
take it easy now, an' live on your wife's salary, ain't you? 

David. Jabe Kendall, you take back them words. 

Bart. Jabe — you old sarpint, you ( To Frank and 

Hiram.) Lemme go, boys ! Lemme get hold o' the cuss 

Jabe. You think I'm down, don't you ? Well, I know who 
drove up from the depot with you, David. An' I know who's 
in the back room there now. Hannah' 11 be pleased when I 
tell her. \^Exit, 

AcH. {calling^. Oh, Alice— John— I've got my appoint- 
ment ! 

Enter John and Alice. 

Alice. Oh, Achsah, is it all settled ? I'm so glad ! 

{They all crowd about Ach., reading the appointment and 
rejoicing. David stands alone by the door.) 

Bart. Tarnation, what does it say ? Can*t somebody read 
it to me ? 

Enter the Stranger. 

Stranger {to David). There seems to be quite a little 
excitement here, sir. 

David. Yes, things is stirrin* some. 

Stranger. Can you direct me to David Jameson ? 

David. Guess I'm the man you're lookin' for. What can 
I do for you ? 

Stranger. You wrote to the chief of police of Chicago 
some days ago, giving us a description of a man, and asking 



38 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

US to look him up. {Shows picture.) Did you ever see this 
man before ? 

David. Jabe Kendall ! 

Stranger. Jim Crane, when we had the pleasure of his 
acquaintance. We shall be mighty glad to see him again too. 
There's a litde matter of an assault with intent to kill some 
time ago, in Dolan's saloon. 

David. Stranger, I'm mighty sorry you didn't blow in 
about five minutes ago. 'Twould have saved us some trouble, 
I'm thinkin'. Jabe's stirrin' up ructions just now, an' he's 
just left to stir up more mischief. 

Stranger. Gone — which way ? 

David. He'll be back — you just stay right here — an' you 
won't have long to wait, either. He's goin' to brew his pot 
o' trouble right here in this store, an' he'll be on hand to stir 
the mess. (^Calls.) Bart, come over here. Here's somebody 
with news that will please you. 

Bart. Who is it ? 

David. A detective from Chicago. 

Bart. After Jabe ? Then he did do somethin' ? Glory 
be ! When ye goin' to arrest him, mister? What did he do? 

Stranger. Nothing but try to kill a man in a saloon row. 
'Twasn't his fault he isn't wanted for murder, though. I 
guess you won't see him round here for a few years, anyway. 

Bart. Tarnation ! You don't say so ! An' him a-hand- 
lin' dynamite right in our midst ! It's a wonder he ain't 
blowed us all up. I'm goin' to set right where I be, an' see 
the fun. 

Mar. (^looking around). My — there's my boarder, now. 
Gracious ! I forgot all about him. I guess he got tired settin' 
alone, an' thought he'd hunt me up, — me an' his supper. 
{To Stranger.) How do you do, sir? Ain't goin' back 
just yet, I take it ? Supper'll be ready at six o'clock sharp. 

Stranger. Thank you. I am going to stay here a httle 
while and transact a little business. 

Mar. Well, come on. Miss Roberts. 

[Exit Mar. and Hazel. 

David {io John). Is it all right, John ? 

John. It is more than right with Alice, David. But mother 
must 

Enter YikT<i., followed by Jabe. 
Jabe. There they are — ^just as I told you. 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 39 

Han. (Jo John). So — you turn against your mother, do 
you ? You come to a nameless girl in the village store, rather 
than to your own home? The whole town knows you're here 
and why — knows all your affairs — but it remains for yojr own 
mother to learn it from a passing neigh Ijor? 

Bart. To learn it from a darned old busybody, you mean. 

Han. (Jo Ach.). And you? you interfere between mother 
and son ? You and David take it upon yourselves to settle 
my boy's future? What is it to you ? 

David. Hannah — Hannah — come into the other room. 
This is no place for 

Han. My affairs seem to be town's talk. Let the town 
hear the rest of it. John, will you come home with me? 

John. Not without Alice, mother. 

Han. a nameless girl shall never 

David. Wait, Hannah. Don't say it. There's things you 
ought to know first. 

Han. I know as much about her as anybody, don't I? I 
know how she came here, from nobody knows where. Who 
knows who her folks were ? 

John. Mother, she is going to be my wife. 

Alice. John — wait — let me tell her. She is your mother, 
John. (Holds out the letter.) Mrs. Webster — Mrs. Webster 
— please, please, before you say any more, read this. 

Han. I don't want to read anything. I want my son. 

David. Hannah, Alice is Charles Blanchard's daughter. 
Now, will you read this letter ? 

Han. Charlie Blanchard — David, how can you be so 
cruel ? How can you speak that name to me now ? (She 

sinks into a chair.) Charlie What does it mean? 

Give me the letter. 1 don't understand (She reads 

swiftly.') Oh, Charlie — Charlie — he forgave me — he thought 
of me 

Bart. Tarnation — I must 'a' got a cold last night, after all. 
My eyes water like blazes ! 

Han. Alice — and you've been hving in my house all this 

time David, tell me— is it true? Is this really Charlie's 

girl? Alice, come here — let me look at you — yes, you're his 
girl ! Why didn't I see it before? — David — T haven't been 
good to Charlie, have I? T v/asn't good to his girl. — But I'll 
make it up to her. — He'll forgive me, won't he, David? He 
did before, you know — he said so in the letter. — Alice — will you 
come home ? 



40 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

Alice. Yes — mother. Come, John. 

David. John, the rig we came up in is outside. Take it 
and drive home. 

John. Come, mother. 

Alice. Get the box, John. 

Jabe. Hannah Webster, have you turned fool in your old 
age? Are you goin' to let 'em play it on you like this ? How 
do you know this story's true? That box is mine — John 
Webster, hand it over here ! 

Han. I don't need records to know this story is true. I'm 
seein' things clear for the first time in a good many years. 
Come, Alice. 

(As Han., Alice a«^ John go ouf, the Stranger steps for- 
ward.') 

Stranger {placing his hand on Jabe's shoulder). You are 
wanted in Chicago, my man. 

Jabe. Who are you ? What are you talking about ? 

Stranger {showing his badge). I am Detective O'Hara, 
and you are Jim Crane, my man. I have a warrant for your 
arrest for assault with intent to kill. Will you come along 
without any trouble, or shall I get out extradition papers ? 
We've been looking for you quite a while. 

Bart {seizifig Jabe and holding him fast). Don't let him 
get away, boys ! Grab him, Hiram. — Grab him, Frank. — 
Tarnation, Jabe Kendall, who's a jailbird now ? Who's that 
honest man that worked for his living ? Guess it's better to be 
a loafer than a murderer, ain't it? 

^ km. {throwing him ojf). Take me out of here. I'll fight 
every inch of the way. 

Bart. Maybe he'll write to Washington, mister. He's 
great on writin* about folks. Hee. — Guess next letter you 
write to the President, Jabe, you'll be askin' for a pardon ! 
You'll look handsome in a striped suit, Jabe, now I tell ye ! 

\^Exit Jabe and the Stranger. 

Bart. Gosh ! I never see such excitin' times since I was 
born ! — Be they really gone, Achsah ? Is it all over ? — Gosh, 
I got to find out more about Jabe ! Which way did that con- 
stable go, boys ? 

Hiram. Down toward the livery stable. Come on, Bart, 
let's go down. I'd like to see the end o' that myself. 

Bart. I'd like to step up to Hannah's an' find out about 



THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 41 

John an' Alice, too. Glory — there's so much goin* on, I don't 
know where to go first. 

Frank. Come on — come on — you got all the rest o' your 
life to talk about it in. [^Exit Bart, Frank and Hiram. 

David. Well, Achsah, it's gettin' dark. Guess I'll be 
goin'. 

AcH. Going, David ? 

David. Yes. 

AcH. Why do you go so soon, David ? 

David. Well, everything's all settled. 

AcH. Is it, David? I thought so last night — I thought 
so this morning — but it doesn't seem just the same to me now. 

David. Things were different, Achsah. Last night I 
thought you were goin' to need a home, maybe. But now 
you've got your appointment, and I 

AcH. David, dear — what I need and what I want more 
than anything in the world — oh, don't you know what that is? 
David, you're not going to let Jabe Kendall spoil our lives ? 
He's gone, David — forget him. — John an' Alice are going to 
be happy. — Hannah's going to be happier than she has been 
for years. — Aren't we going to be happy, too, David ? 

David. Well, Achsah, I s'pose the business is increasin'. 
(Smiles.^ Maybe the postmistress needs an assistant. 

ACH. She does, David. I'm sure she does. — An' the mail 
isn't half sorted yet. Come, assistant, begin now. 

{They stoop for the mail- bag. As their hands touchy David 
takes AcH. in his armsj and kisses her.') 

Enter Bart. 

Bart {in great excitetnent). Gosh, I guess I'm losin' my 
mind ! Went off without my hat ! David — David, do you 
see my hat anywhere ? Achsah, seen my hat ? (Ach. and 
David start as he speaks, but a button on David's coat catches 
on AcH.'s waist, and Bart, fumbling about, comes on them 
trying to unfasten it.) Tarnation ! What's this? What's 
doin' now? — Gosh-all-hemlock ! It's David a-huggin' Achsah! 
— Glory — what next? — I can't keep up with things nowadays, 
they happen so fast 1 (David and Ach. finally extricate them- 
selves, and confusedly hunt for Bart's hat.) Where is that 
hat? Can't you find it? Jabe'U be on the train 'fore I get 
there, an' I've just thought o' somethin' I want to say to him. 



42 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 

I'll be back, though ! (David at last finds the hat, claps it on 
Bart's head, and rushes him toward the door. Bart calls.) 
I'll be right back. — I'll be right back. 

{As his voice dies away in the distance, Ach. and David 
laugh at each other,) 



CURTAIN 



A Novelty 



MISS PRIM'S KINDERGARTEN 

OR, A SCHOOL OF TODAY 

AN ENTERTAINMENT IN ONE SCENE 



B2/ Jessie A. Kelley 



Author of "The Pedlers' Parade," "Squire Judkins' Apple Bee," 

♦' Santa's Subpkise," " Thk Village Post-Office," " Her Weekly 

Allowance," etc. 

Ten males, eleven females. No scenery or curfeain needed ; costumes 
burlesque, introducing: grown people dressed as children. Plays from an 
hour to an hour and a half. A modern, up-to-date version of the popular 
" District School," full of laughs and a sure hit with the audience. All the 
parts very easy except the Teacher's, and as it is possible for her to use a 
book, the entertainment can be got up Avith exceptional ease and quickness. 
Can be recommended. 



Price, 25 cents 



CHARACTERS 



Boys 
Reginald Smith. 
Cecil Blake. 
Earl Stryker. 
Dttke McNulty. 
Van Dyke McAllister. 
James Danforth. 
Lionel Bold wood. 
Ethelbert Salmon. 
Julian Ward (stutterer). 
Carl Schultz {German), 

Miss Pbiscilla Prim, the Teacher. 



Girls 
Viola Browne. 
Alyce Howard. 
Mae Faulkner. 
Kathryn Dennison. 
Hazel Carbury. 
Genevieve Hubbard {lisps). 
Gladys Martin. 
Hyacinth Myrtle. 
Marianne Rutledge. ' 
Gwendolyn Hollisteb. 
{spectacles, precise and serious). 



SANTA'S SURPRISE 



A CHRISTMAS EXERCISE FOR GIVING 

Bi/ Jessie J. Kelley 

.4M<Aor 0/ " The Village Post-Office," "Miss Prim's Kindergarten," 
"The Pedleb's Parade," " Squire Judkins' Apple Bee," etc. 

Thirty-three children and a man to impersonate Santa Glaus required, 
but the number of children may be lessened, if desired, any part being capa- 
able of being omitted without detriment to any other part. Children may 
be in costume or not, as desired. No scenery is required. A very pretty 
little entertainment, teaching a very useful and seasonable lesson without 
perceptible effort — the lesson of giving. 

Price, 15 cents 



New Plays 



A RUSSIAN ROMANCE 

A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS 

For Female Characters only 

By Helen Kane 

Author o/" A PorNX of Honoe," etc. 

Sixteen female characters. Scenes, two interiors ; costumes modem. 
Plays two hours. A very exceptionally dramatic and eifective play for all 
women, high in tone and quite above the average in quality. Calls for strong 
acting by three of its characters, has several good character parts and a 
number of minor parts that call for handsome dressing. An excellent play 
for a woman's club, easy to stage and absorbing in intereat. Confldentl.v 
recommended to the best taste. 

Price, 25 cents 
CHARACTERS 

Mlle. SANNOM {Olga Petrovna), a IVlRS. Tremaine, cousin to Mrs. Will' 

Russian refugee, ner ; a ^'' manager." 

Madame Ignatieff, wife of the Rus- Lady Gray, wife of English Amboi- 

sian A mbassador. sador. 

Madame Luvoff wife of Attach^, Madame de Fa yeuse, tw/e o/J^re»cA 

Russian Embassy. Minister. 

Mrs. Willner, wife of Senator,— Mrs. Weston, "| Callers at Sen- 
kindly and inconsequent. JilRS. Ellett, I ator Willner's 

ASENATH, her daughter, aged eighteen; ]\Iiss de Lorme, > This number may 

romantic but loyal. Miss FAIRFAX, I beincreoicdifde' 

LoRNA, her " Baby," aged six; rebel- Miss de Peyster, j sirable. 

lious — " enfant terrible." Sasha, maid at Russian Legatik. k 

HuLDAH, maid to Mrs. Wilbier, 

SYNOPSIS 

ACT I. Scene 1. —At Senator Willner's. Olga, (Mile. Sannom) arrives 
in America, in search of her brother. 

Scene 2. — The same. She "manages " the *• unmanageable." 

ACT II. Scene 1. — "Calling day" at Senator Willner's. Olga meets 
an old friend, and is seen by her enemy. 

Scene 2. —At the Russian Embassy, Story of the escape from Siberia. 
The enemy threatens. 

ACT III. Scene 1. — At the Embassy again. Olga meets her enemy. 

Scene 2. — At Mrs. Willner's. The enemy conquered. 

THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE 

A FAIRY PLAT 

By W. B. Yeats 

Three male, three female characters. Scenery, a plain interior ; cos- 
tumes, Irish peasant. Plays half an hour. An excellent example of this 
author's work. It has been extensively used in this country by schot Is of 
acting, and the present edition was made for this purpose. Perfectly act- 
able, but most unconventional in form and treatinent. Offered to students 
rather than for acting. 



Price^ 15 cerUa 



New Plays 



THE COUNTRY MINISTER 

A COMEDY-DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS 



By Arthur Lewis Tuhhs 



AUTHOR OF ••valley FARM," " WILLOWDALE," "THE PENALTY OP 
PRIDE," ETC. 

Eight males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery not difficult. 
Plays a full evening, A very sympathetic piece, of powerful dramatic in- 
terest; strong and varied comedy relieves the serious plot, as in this author's 
"Valley Farui," to admirers of which this play is recommended, Ralph 
Underwood, the minister, is a great part, and Roxy a strong poubrette; all 
parts are good and full of opportunity. Scenes are laid ahout equally in city 
and country. This will be the " hit" of the coming year, and Clubs will do 
well to secure early copies. Clean, bright and strongly recommended. 

Pricey 25 cents 

CHARACTERS 

Kev. Ralph Uitoerwood, the conn- William Hexry. 

try minister. TOM Sparkoav. 

Gregory Heath, 0/ the world at Mr. Filkiks, an ojjicer. 

large. HELE>r BrRLElGH,/;om the city. 

JUL» Pardoe, a wreck on the ocean of Jekusha Ja^e Jubkins, the post' 

life. mis/ress. 

Timothy Hodd, tvho tvould rather Koxy, ^^ a fresh air kid." 

whittle than icork. GRANNY GrIMES. 

Deacon Potter, "just a trifle deef." Fanny, a maid. 



SYNOPSIS 

Act I. — Yard of Miss Judkins's store and postoffice, Mullen ville, N. Y., 
on a morning in August. 

Act II. — Same as Act I, half an hour later. 

Act III. — Granny Grimes's garret, on the East Side, Kew York City, 
the following November. 

Act IV. — Miss Burleigh's home in New York, the same cveniug. 

Act V. — Back at Mullen ville, in Miss Judkins's sitting-room. One 
month has elapsed. 



TVf ELFTH NIGHT 

By Williavi Shakespeare 

A comedy in Five Acts. Ten males, three females. Costumes, pictiir- 
esqne; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening. A new acting version of this 
eomedy, based on the prompt-book of Miss Julia Marlowe 



Price, 15 cents 



New Plays 



OUT OF TOWN 

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 

By Bell Elliott Palmer 



Tliice m;ilcs, live females. Scene, an interior, tlie same for all three 
!ict ri ; co^tuiiie.-s modern. Plays an hour and a hair. A clever and interest- 
ing comedy, very easy to produce and recommended for amateur perform- 
ance. Toiie lii(;ii anil atiiiosj^-here retined. All the parts good and full of 
varied opportunity. A safe piece for a fastidious audience, as its theme and 
treatment are alike beyond reproach. 

Price, 25 cents 
CHARACTERS 

Mb. John Spencer Ellington, the disguised as housekeeper and maid in 

unwilling possessor of a Dukedom, Acts IT and III. 

disguised as a valet in Act HI. ELIZABETH Thobndike, her daugh- 

Mb. Robert Mayhew Thorndike, ter. 

alias " Bobby," a bachf'or by choice. MRS. J. LuDiNGTON MoNBOE, /ormer 

James, buUer at Thorndike' s. classmate of Mrs Thorndike' s. ' 

Mrs. Jane Harp cngton Thorn- Esther Monroe, her daughter. 

dike, a widow; mother of Bobby. 'Ma.b.xr, Miss Thorndike' s maid, 

SYNOPSIS 

ACT I.— At Mrs. Harrington's. A deep-laid plot. An unexpected Duke. 
Unlooked-for trouble. The best-laid plans. A disguised household. 

ACT II. — The same. A tyrannical gnest. An imitation housekeeper and 
a spurious maid. A titled valet. Social algebra. Lifting the mask. 

ACT III. — The same. The camel's back and the last straw. The begin- 
ning of the end. Mrs. T. aeserts herself. The tyrant dethroned. An inter- 
national alliance and a bachelor reformed. 



THE MARBLE ARCH 

A COMEDIETTA IN ONE ACT 

By Edward Rose and A, J, Garraway 
From the German 

Two males, t-wo females. Costumes modern ; scenery, an easy interior. 
Plays half an hour, A bright and amusing little play, suited for any occa- 
«ion, but particularly for parlor theatricals, because of its simplicity and its i 
independence of stage accessories. Very retined and high in tone. Strongly ' 
recommended. 



Price, 15 cents 



New Plays for Female Characters 
THE VISIT OF OBADIAH 

A FARCE IN TWO ACTS 

By Eunice Fuller and Margaret C. Lyon 

Thirteen females. Costumes modern; scene, an easy interior, the same 
for both acts. Plays an hour. A clever and original play, suited for school 
or college performance. Full of incident and offers a great variety of char- 
acter and great opportunity for pretty dressing. Irish and negro comedy 
parts. 

Price y 25 cents 
CHARACTERS 

Mrs. Mehitable Coffin, who has RIabia Amanda Van Allstyne- 

buried her husband and her brother. Smythe, named by her father. 

Mrs. Hiram Van Allstyne- Elinok Carmichael, Cecile's " chic 

Smythe, her sister-in-law. school friend." 

Cecile Montoomery Van^ Mrs. Peter Van Bibber. 

Allstyne-Smythe, Wilhelmina Stuyvesant Van 
Clarice Du Mont Van | „^ , Bibber. 

Allstyne-Smythe, ijyamea katrina Kortlandt Van 

Celeste Rockerbilt Van f ^ .T'l Bibber. 

ALI..STYNB- Smythe, \niornei. Bridget. 

CORALIE VANDERBECK | DiNAH. 

VanAxlstyne-Smythe, J Oeadiah, Aunt Mehitable^ s bird. 



A PAN OF FUDGE 

A COMEDY IN ONE ACT 



By Maude B. Simes 



Six females. Costumes modern; scene, an easy interior. Plays twenty- 
five minutes. A bright little boarding school sketch, at once amusing and 
sympathetic; tone high and quality good. Confidently recommended to 
young ladies as an effective piece easy to get up. 

Price, 15 cents 



MAID TO ORDER 

A FARCE IN ONE ACT 

By Helen Sherman Griffith 

Six females. Costumes modern; scene, an easy interior or none at all. 
Plays half an hour. A bright and vivacious little play of boarding school 
life, suited for young people and sure to please them. Clean, refined and 
confidently recommended to the best taste. 



PricCi 15 cents 



mL 



New Plays 



THE MISSING MISS MILLER 

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 

Bt/ Harold A, Clarice 

Six males, five females. Scenery, two interiors ; costumes modern. 
Plays a full evening. A bright and up-to-date farce-comedy of the liveliest 
type. All the parts good ; full of opportunity for all hands. Hymen's Ma- 
trimonial Bureau is the starting point of a good plot and the scene of lots 
of funny incident. Easy to produce and strongly recommended. Good 
tone ; might answer for schools, hut is a sure hit for amateur theatricals. 
Professional stage rights reserved. 

Pricey 25 cents 
CHARACTERS 

Hymen Trouble, manager of the San Sheet.aw Combs, Sleuth, friend of 

Francisco Matrimonial Agency. Buckskin. 

ScottyBvckskjn, a cowboy from Bar Gwendolyn Dashforth, niece to 

Jl Ranch, Texas. Colonel Pemickle. 

Colonel B. Penuckle, f7-om Pacific Bostonia Joughnz, friend of Gwen- 

Arenue. dolyv. 

TETEnJy.Q.WvnTfZjOfthestaffofthe Mrs. Losta Mann, housekeeper for 

San Francisco Daily Yahoo. the Colonel. 

Dr. Fatjnce RHtNESTONE, who keeps Cassie Pauline Skidoo, an author- 

an auto, ess of the intense school. 

Tessie Tapp, a typist. 

Costumes, modern. 
SYNOPSIS 

ACT I.— The marriage bureau, Powell Street, San Francisco. 

ACT II.— Home of Colonel B. Penuckle, Pacific Avenue, San Francisco, 

ACT III.— The marriage bureau. 



CAMILLE 

A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS 

From the French of Alexandre Dumas, Fils, 
By Mildred Aldrich 

Nine males, five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, varied. P'Ays 
a full evening. A new acting version of this pcpul.ir plaj, V'ith fwP ptase 
business. A complete working prompt-boot. Strongly r^commendeo. 



Price, 15 cents 



J\. m. Pinero's Plays 

Price, 50 eents Cacb 

Min THANNFl Play in Four Acts. Six males, five females. 
*"**-'"^1'»*i»*'^" Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. 
Plays two and a half hom's. 

THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH ^''%^Z 

males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery, all interiors. 
Plays a full evening. 

THF PROFI ir ATF Play in Four Acts. Seven males, five 
**^»*-« * IVv/rLil\J/\l£j females. Scenery, three interiors, rather 
elaborate ; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 

THr QrHfini MIQTPFQQ Farce in Three Acts. Nine males, 
inEi iJV/nWULil?liiJlI\.£iOi3 seven females. Costumes, mod- 
ern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

THE SECOND MRS. TANQUERAY ^rlSZXi 

females. Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a 
full evening. 

^WFFT ! AVFlSinFP Comedv in Three Acts. Seven males, 
OTTEilIil Li/i VLililyEtIV four females. Scene, a single interior, 
costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 

THF THlTlMnFPKHIT Comedv in Four Acts. Ten males, 
in£i inUilLF£iI\.0\JLil nine females. Scenery, three interi- 
ors; costumes, modern.- Plays a full evening. 

XHF XIMF^ Comedy in Four Acts. Six males, seven females. 
I nCi 1 llTlEiO Scene, a single interior ; costumes, modern. Plays 

a full evening. 

TUF WFAITFP QFY Comedy in Three Acts. Eight males, 
IflC TV EiAIVEiIV i3£iA eight females. Costumes, modern; 
scenery, two interiors. Plays a full evening. 

A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE ?-;rSiSfJ^.'i:^,l2; 

Costumes, modern ; scene, a single interior. Plays a full evening. 



Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 

l^alter i|. pafeer Sc Company 

No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 



UIBRfiRV OF CONGRESS 




il^ecent ^opu ?S gw i^^ * 



mAWAlTFNJNfi ^^^5' ^" ^^"^ ^*^*'5. By C. H. chambers. 
>l TriiIVL.il 111 U Pour males, six females. Sceuery, not ditti- 
eult, chiefly iuteriois; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 
Price, 50 Cent.s. 

THE FRUITS OF ENUfiHTENMENT ^^S'c.i.'^Vof "YwSf,',^: 

one males, eleven females. Scenery, characteristic interiors ; cos- 
tumes, modern. Plays a full evening. Recommended for reading 
clubs. Fi'ice, 35 Cents. 

BIS EXCELLENCY TDE GOVERNOR r;fi"„i;i^-«*\?X 

males, three females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, one interior. 
Acting rights reserved. Time, a full evening. Price, 50 Cents. 

MinFAl HINRANTI comedy in Four Acts. By OscAK Wilde. 
lULALi lWJDm^U Nine males, six females. Costumes, mod- 
ern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. Acting rights 
reserved. Sold for reading. Price, 50 Cents. 

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST f^.ir ^" S?,"a'S 

Wilde. Five males, four females. Costumes, modern ; scenes, two 
interiors and an exterior. Plays a full evening. Acting rights re- 
served. Price, 50 Cents. 

LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN '^Z^'•'^::i'^^SSri^ 

males. Costumes, modern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full 
evening. Acting rights reserved. Price, 50 Cents. 

NATHAN HAI F ^^^^' "^ ^'^"^" ^^^^- ^y Clyde Fitch. Fifteen 
iiiUlliill il^ulw males, four females. Costumes of the eighteenth 
century in America. Scenery, four interiors and two exteriors. Act- 
ing rights reserved. Plays a full evening. Price, 50 Cents. 

THF HTHFP FFTIHW Comedy in Three Acts. BylVL B. Horxe. 
lUL UlilLft ILLtLilfVI Six males, four females. Scenery, two 
interiors ; costumes, modern. Professional stage rights reserved. 
Plays a full evening. Price, 50 Cents. 

THE TYRANNY OF TEARS S^-f^iS.?- ttfeJh^,S g: 

males. Scenery, an interior and an exterior ; costumes, modern. 
Acting rights reserved. Plays a full evening. Price, 50 Cents. 

A WOMAN OF NO IMPORTANCE ^^l^^^^llri^^^i^l 

seven females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, three interiors and an 
exterior. Plays a full evening. Stage rights reserved. Otfered for 
reading only. " Price, 50 Cents. 



Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 

5^alter l^. I3a6er & Company 

No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 

S. J. PAHKHILL A. CO., PRINTERS. BOSTON. 



